Airport riots in Mumbai and Holy Beach Cows in Goa
Trip Start Nov 20, 2012
8Trip End Dec 19, 2012
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Apparently three planes landed at the same time and the monitors indicating which luggage belt that would deliver the bags for each plane changed every few minutes. The result was one of the worst mob-pits I have ever been in with humans, bags and luggage carriers in one big sticky mess. No rules applied. When I spotted a desperate man climbing over people and four rows of luggage carriers to get to the other side, I decided to elbow my way out and simply step back and observe. This was a great reminder of the endless amount of patience that one must bring to this colorful, loud and intense country
Less than 24 hours later: a flight and a bumpy taxi-ride (with loud 80's music mixed with Indian techno and high pitched prayer yelling blaring out from cracked speakers) takes me south, and I find myself relaxing on the beaches of Goa.
Oh, Goa so relaxing and laid back (with some exceptions of "Madam, you see my shop", “Madam where you from?” and “Madam where your husband and children?” followed by the famous Indian headroll), a beach paradise where Russian and British sun worshippers tan their oiled bodies under tall coconut palm trees and seekers come to yoga, tarot and reiki their days away. You want a fish pedicure a abyanga massage or a healing session by a Guru? You find it all in little lovely Palolem. No full-moon parties here (you’ll find that in northern Goa) just plain relaxation and a whole lotta Namaste :)
I check in at the lovely little Dreamcatcher resort where couples sit on their porches, looking deeply into each other’s eyes, reading or drinking juice cocktails. I get the one and only single hut called “the Elf” and I love it
I got four days of Goa-bliss until I head east to Hubli in Karnataka where I plan to stay for a couple of weeks to attend the teachings of His Holiness the Dalai Lama in the monasteries of Mundgod. Until then you’ll find me on the yoga mat , eating curries or under the large banyan tree on the beach reading the fabulous book “the Miracle” by Rhonda Byrne.
Peace, Love and Chillin' Holy Beach Cows
~Yours truly, the Swedish Vagabond~
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